


forging in flame

by knowtheway



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Hate Sex, Mild Humiliation, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knowtheway/pseuds/knowtheway
Summary: Shirley’s really over Zelda Spellman getting all the praise she thinks is rightfully hers. Zelda’s really over Shirley being an insufferable bitch.
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Shirley Jackson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely the result of a dirty dream I had recently and... ya know... I decided it’s about time we see the possible origin of that ~*tension*~ between Sister Spellman and Sister Jackson.

Preposterous.

Shirley had spent the better part of two weeks writing that paper, submitting it only after triple-checking that her annotations were perfect and her arguments were sound. There was no way on Satan’s green earth that she deserved anything less than a perfect score. But as she looks down the list of grades posted at the door, she feels her blood pressure quickly rise as she sees the hateful “B+” next to her name.

This was clear negligence on the professor’s part. She always suspected he never actually read their assignments and doled out marks based on who he liked best. And she need only check one name to prove herself correct.

“Of course,” she spits out with disdain, clenching her fists at her sides as she sees the shining “A” next to Zelda Spellman’s name.

Forever the teacher’s pet. And a shameless whore at that. She had frequently seen her slinking away into the night, all laughter and mischief on her face, while Shirley and others stayed anchored to their study desks in the academy library. It’s well-known that ever since that Blackwood boy fucked off to London, she’s cycled through every warlock from here to Riverdale, academy staff included. As such, she doubts Zelda spent more than an hour - maybe two, if she wants to be generous - on what she imagined is a lackluster-at-best essay. But oh, she was such a suck-up in class, very literally batting her lashes at every turn and commanding the professor’s attention so that he barely instructed any of the other students who were genuinely there to learn and not simply fuck their way into success.

“Absolute bullshit,” she mutters, quickly silencing the quiet giggles of the warlocks behind her with a sharp look. Straightening herself, she stomps away, seething in rage, pushing the hallway of students to part like the Red Sea with a forceful wave of her hands. Later, after pacing the dormitory and forcing the few witches inside to scatter away, she lets out a scream and smashes a glass vase against the wall. It helps her feel better. But only a little.

She just doesn’t understand. The Academy prides itself on hosting the brightest minds in the world, but if they actually valued intelligence and skill - she would be having rose petals thrown at her feet anywhere she goes. Instead, she gets tossed into the dust while watching others get showered in praise simply because they own some tight dresses and a nice pair of tits.

Luckily, there were those not so easily swayed. To be fair, she was never really  _that_ taken with Edward - she can’t pinpoint why - but she clocked his magnetism quickly. She knew eventually that he would take her places she could only go if she were attached to the hip of a powerful warlock. One of the few mutual understandings between her and Zelda. A witch was only afforded so much power by the church and if she longed for more? Well, there were ways. Some more respectable than others.

And respect was how Shirley would win.

Never mind that the same edict implemented by the high council one week had been strikingly similar to a proposal she overheard Zelda explaining on a previous afternoon. Never mind that heads always turned any time she walked into a room. Never mind that her name seemed to come up in some regard in every fucking conversation she had.

Shirley was better than her. And she knew, in time, everyone would see that.

After a few more deep breaths, the fog of her rage begins to lift and she remembers that before she heard that grades were posted, she’d been in the library studying (futilely, it seems) and her bookbag must still be at the table she bolted up from. By the look of the dimming light outside, it must nearly be dinner time, too.

Deciding she’d better go and fetch her things, she briefly considers spelling away the shards of glass from her emotional outburst earlier. But then - if her classmates are truly equal to her, they should have no problem with a reparation spell.

An hour later and a hasty meal in her stomach, Shirley can’t wait to take her thoroughly worn-out body to bed. Riding high on rage-induced adrenaline all day only makes the fall to exhaustion all the harder. She dismisses herself from the usual evening conversation or drinks with her fellow students and heads back to what she expects will be an empty, quiet dormitory. Praise Satan for that.

In anticipation, she’s already unbuttoning her blouse, down to the last two when she reaches the door. She shrugs the fabric half-way over her shoulder and pushes her way inside. A relieved sigh just starts to leave her lips when she’s startled by a distinctly silky voice.

“Good evening, Shirley,” Zelda says with a deceptively sweet smile, flipping through the pages of a leather bound text.

She’s sitting on Shirley’s bed, of all places, with her legs crossed and a posture that suggests she’s entitled to the space she’s currently occupying. A sense of dread starts to build in Shirley’s chest, made all the worse when she sees the pile of broken glass atop her bedsheets next to Zelda.

“Might I ask,” Zelda says calmly, “Why you smashed my grandmother’s prized vase to pieces?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy fighting? (Arguably) Sexy fighting.

Shirley takes a second to adjust the surprise surely written on her face. Of all the breakable things in this room, of course she had to pick the precious queen’s priceless ornament. Satan forbid she’d gotten ahold of herself and chosen something more sensible, like Sister Brim’s obnoxious jewelry box that she doubts anyone would miss.

No matter. Perhaps it was divine intervention. The Dark Lord led her hand because it’s what the bitch deserves.

Thus, Shirley doesn’t answer, but simply raises her chin with a defiant smirk. “Surprised to see you in so early, Sister Spellman,” she says, “I assumed you’d be engaged in one of your… _many_ … extracurricular activities.”

Zelda stops flipping through her book and rests her palm over the page she’s landed on, looking up to lock eyes with Shirley in a devious smile. “Oh dear, have I interrupted one of yours?” Zelda quips innocently, her eyes roaming over Shirley’s half-opened blouse.

Following her gaze, Shirley lets out a quiet gasp as she realizes she’s still exposed, and clutches her shirt together to cover her chest. Fighting against the warmth rising to her face, she grits her teeth and hisses, “Certainly not. Some of us have more important things to tend to, like our studies.”

Zelda lets out a barely contained laugh, quickly covering her mouth, and she looks at her with pitying eyes. “Hm. Yes, I heard there was quite a scene earlier today,” Zelda rises then, gingerly placing her book down where she sat, and steps in closer to Shirley, “I can certainly understand needing to devote yourself to your studies. It would seem you need the practice, wouldn’t it?”

Shirley’s mouth twitches as rage begins to build inside her, and she clenches her free fist at her side. “Is that what you call your techniques, then, Sister Spellman? ‘Practice?’ Your knees must be awfully sore for the amount of it you do.”

She noticeably tenses when Zelda moves forward. She might even call her menacing, the way she slinks towards her like cobra cornering its helpless prey, but Shirley knows it’s all performance. The Spellman girl wouldn’t dare attack her here, where witnesses could enter at any moment. Though... Shirley’s perhaps remembers the click of the locks turning after she entered. Or does she?

Zelda  adjusts her weight to one hip, folds her arms delicately across her torso, humming with a small smile, and raises a brow as she sizes Shirley up.  Shirley merely lets it build. Let her believe she’s intimidating. Hell, she’ll even give her the first move for free. Perhaps now they’ll finally see who is the better witch after all.

When their gazes meet, it’s equal parts contempt and defiance. The silence is thick with resentment and tension. Shirley is about to cut in with another smart remark, but Zelda stifles her before she can get a word out, suddenly reaching her hand up to gently push away Shirley’s stray hair from her forehead.

Shirley’s eyes go wide and she’s so taken aback that all she can do is squeak nervously as Zelda smiles at her almost kindly. What in Lucifer’s name was she doing?

The witch’s fingers are soft, delicate, and steady. If Shirley weren’t absolutely petrified in shock, she might even let out a sweet sigh at the feel of it. Instead, she stays frozen still like a startled deer and her mind races through a million scenarios at once. Stupidly, her panicked body makes her take a shuddering inhale of breath to accommodate her increasingly rapid heartbeat and with it, she catches Zelda’s scent. It’s purely intoxicating, of course – all warm spice and winter blossoms. The kinds of comforts one wants to wrap themselves in forever.

“Dear Shirley,” she says in a quietly sweet voice, eyes roaming over her face as she continues to tuck her hair away. Shirley can’t help but to close her eyes at the feel of it. Why does it feel so nice? “You don’t really think I need practice in that regard, do you?”

Her heart beats a little faster and the hand clenching her blouse falls to her side. The rational part of her brain is telling her to step back and hex the presumptuous cunt, but everything else - every other single part of her - is leaning into Zelda’s soft, gentle hands.

“After all,” the ginger witch whispers, wrapping both of her arms around Shirley’s shoulders as her fingers slide deep into her chestnut hair, short nails scratching beautifully at her scalp. “Haven’t I... what was it?“ Shirley’s eyes are still closed, but she can sense that Zelda’s mouth is mere inches from hers and her chin tilts up in anticipation... “Oh yes. Fucked every warlock from here to Riverdale?”

Shirley’s eyes snap open a second too late as the searing pain of her hair being tugged backwards hits her. She stumbles with a sharp cry, but the Spellman bitch places a firm hand on the small of her back to keep her still. Shirley begins muttering curses and attempts to squirm away from Zelda’s hold on her, but the little the cunt is far stronger than she seems.

“I’ll have you know,” Zelda’s face hovers above Shirley’s exposed throat and she lets out a high whine, “You’re right. I have fucked every warlock. Every witch, too. And I’ll do it again. Do you know why, Sister Shirley?”

She stutters through a frustrated grunt and thrashes against Zelda harder, “Let me go or you’ll regret it!”

“You’d be surprised,” Zelda continues nonchalantly, tightening her grip. “At how willingly people let their guard down at the prospect of being touched,” Zelda’s warm breath tickles her neck and she eyes Shirley as if she were still stalking her prey instead already having it pinned beneath her. “I’ve yet to meet a single witch, warlock, or mortal who’s immune to it. They love hoarding their power as much as they love bragging about it. And your pretty little head would spin if you knew half the secrets every one of them let loose between the sheets.”

On the last word, Zelda forcefully releases her, but not without taking a sizable lock of Shirley’s hair with her.

She stumbles and falls into the side of one of the beds, her hand coming up to hold and soothe her stinging scalp. “You bitch! I swear the high priest will hear of this!” Her vision is slightly blurry as she adjusts herself back onto her feet properly, and she blindly swings a fist into the air, hoping it’ll connect with the Spellman girl’s jaw. “I will make sure you’re shunned from every coven within 1000 miles of Greendale!”

“That’s rather dramatic,” she hears Zelda say and Shirley turns towards the sound, forcing her eyes to focus. Once they do, she sees that Zelda has had the time to light a cigarette and is leaning against her vanity wearing a most satisfied smirk. Taking a puff with one hand, Shirley’s lock of hair dangles in the fist of her other, and the brunette seethes at the sight of it. Her eyes narrow and she makes to lunge forward, but Zelda wags her finger.

“Ah ah,” her tone purposefully patronizing, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Shirley. Unless, of course, you think I’m as incapable at Fire conjuring as you once assumed. Wasn’t it you who said that I passed that class not by the skin of my teeth, but by the spread of my legs? Admittedly, a clever insult.”

“Have you not confessed as much just now?” Shirley counters.

“Oh, that?” Zelda raises an amused brow, blowing out a stream of smoke. “No, Sister Jackson, I confessed nothing of my abilities or skill as a witch - I think we both know, even with demonstration, how very capable I am. I simply did you the favor of satisfying your overwhelming interest in my carnal affairs.”

“What the heaven are you talking about?” she bites back, noticing again that her blouse is open even more than earlier, but not caring to correct it.

“Well, I don’t believe I know of anyone who takes more interest in my sexual escapades than you,” she looks at her slyly, “The amount of times you must imagine me in the various passions you accuse me of. I assume it takes up quite a bit of your day.“

Shirley feels the blood rushing to her face as her breathing noticeably deepens. How dare this bitch. “You really think you’re something special, Spellman. You think I want _you_?”

Zelda’s tongue darts out to quickly lick her lips and though rage is practically bursting inside her, a twinge of lust rolls over Shirley’s skin at the gesture.

“Were you not just panting at my mercy and practically begging to be stroked and squeezed and everything good girls aren’t supposed to want?” Zelda pouts mockingly and Shirley feels an electric jolt of conflicting anger and desire shoot through.

“Your mercy? A pompous, suck up of a slut who fucks anyone in her vicinity at a moment’s notice? Don’t flatter yourself. There are those of us who have standards.”

Zelda merely huffs out a laugh with her last exhale of smoke, extinguishing her cigarette on the nearby window sill. “Very well. I’ll leave you to your standards. But I’ll hang on to this,” Zelda holds up Shirley’s hair, folding it into a white cloth and tucking it into her bra.

Shirley’s jaw tenses and while Zelda turns to adjust herself in the mirror, she takes the opportunity to step forward and curl her fingers around one of the larger shards of glass still atop her bed.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Zelda turns on her heel and flashes a smile, “Don’t get too hot and bothered, Shirley,” she says, patting where she placed the cloth as she walks towards the door, “It’s not to keep you close to my heart, it’s to bind you should you ever cross me again. Painfully, if necessary.”

Once her hand is on the doorknob, Shirley suddenly jumps forward, pinning the ginger witch against the door and hooking her arm around her neck. Zelda barely gets out a squeak before Shirley positions the sharp edge of the smashed porcelain at her throat.

“Funny you should mention pain, Sister Zelda,” Shirley hisses into her ear, wrapping her arm firmly around Zelda’s waist as she presses the glass in deeper. “I think you’re owed a bit of it yourself.”

She can feel Zelda’s muscles tense and her breathing quicken, relishes the softness of her body hugged in against her, and the sight of her sworn enemy helpless and shivering in her embrace has a warmth spreading in Shirley’s lower belly. 

“Do it, then,” Zelda’s whispers, again surprising Shirley when she reaches up and places her hand over hers, helping her dig the glass in deeper, breaking the surface of her skin. “Come on... make it hurt, Sister.”

Everything consumes Shirley at once - there’s echoes of shouting, a buzz of overwhelming energy, and Zelda’s quivering, anticipating body in her hands.

“Do it,” she repeats, this time as a plea. 

And without thinking, Shirley’s hand on Zelda’s waist dips roughly between the her thighs, cupping the witch’s warm cunt, and slicing delicately into the taught skin of her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry to cut it off there, but if I didn’t post what I had so far, I just know that I never would.
> 
> The explosive climax (trololol) will be in the next chapter and hopefully up soon! Thanks for reading! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Shirley has big “I’m not like the other girls” syndrome, eh? But Zelda’s about to really make her head spin.
> 
> There’s sex and fighting in the next chapter. Sexy fighting? Idk maybe!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


End file.
